Le Temps Viendra: A Novel of Anne Boleyn (19 page)

What they did not see—nor did they care about—was that I was a young woman in love with her Lord, yet trapped in an insufferable three-way relationship. It was becoming more and more arduous to hold my tongue at Katherine’s snide remarks and derisory looks; I longed for Henry and me to be free to be together. It felt impossible that he could ever turn against me, as I knew with every fibre of my being how much he loved me. So foolishly and blindly, I wanted to push on and find a way for us to be rid of her. Looking round the table, I sensed that perhaps there was still nobody better placed to bring about what I longed for than Wolsey, with all his international and diplomatic connections and his experience. I decided to play their game, but I would play it my way. Anne was a shrewd operator and I felt her guiding hand, as I replied,

‘Father, Your Graces. I see the truth in your words and I see that we shall all be better off without the Cardinal. However, I also agree that the time is not yet right. The King still speaks highly of his minister and there is much yet to be done in the pursuit of his annulment.’ I paused, and then with all solemnity, fixed them squarely with my gaze and said, ‘I swear to you my Lords that in your support for me, I pledge my alliance to this cause. Yet you must trust me to know which way the wind blows and to act accordingly in our best interests.’ I nodded ever so briefly, as if to underline the conclusion to my case. I waited with bated breath, wondering if I had said the right thing. There was a collective sigh of relief around the room and smiles broke out amongst the gentlemen around the table; a rare thing indeed with my Uncle Norfolk. My father leant over and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. He was clearly pleased with my performance. That was the day that the wolves agreed to bring down Wolsey. It was a monumental day for Anne Boleyn too; I knew that she was now centre stage in the cut-throat world of court faction and politics.

The court remained at Beaulieu until mid-August when, according to plan, our 800 strong retinue packed our effects and set off towards Richmond Palace, another one of Henry’s principal houses, nestled deep within the Thames Valley. It was a sight to behold; a procession consisting of hundreds of carts, horses and litters, winding its way snakelike through country lanes that had been made almost impassable by the persistent rain that had blighted the last few weeks. Like many of the ladies, in order to avoid the worst of the weather, I took refuge in a litter along with my new-found friends, Nan Gainsford and Mary Norris. I peered out the window, watching the grey and leaden skies on the horizon; sheets of rain blowing across the distant valleys and hills. Many of the fields about us were waterlogged, and it was clear that the crops were failing and the harvest would be pitiful. I reflected on just how hopeless this situation must be for the average country peasant. In my modern day life, we lived in a world of plenty, never having to worry from where the next meal would come. But there were no supermarkets here, no international aid; without the harvest, the harsh reality was that people would starve to death. I felt truly humbled and extremely grateful for the abundance I experienced in my life. I also prayed that day for all those who would suffer during the coming winter.

Such sobering thoughts, along with the dark and ominous weather, left me feeling rather downcast and gloomy. I remember that day, having a deep sense of my own vulnerability in this savage world and the grim inevitability which arose from knowing Anne’s fate. These had been feelings that I had held in check, and pushed aside as I basked in Henry’s sweet love for me. Yet, they had then engulfed me with a vengeance. Wave after wave of despair crashed over me; so by the time that the court arrived at Havering, one of the King’s lesser houses in the Essex countryside, all I wanted was to be alone. This was easier said than done. With the difficult travelling conditions, we had made slow progress, and the King decided to spend the night at this modest manor house en route to Richmond Palace. Accommodation at Havering was limited, and much of the court had to be housed in nearby houses, inns or tents which were pitched up in the sodden parkland surrounding the property. We were luckier than most, riding high in the King’s favour, our family was accommodated comfortably enough.

I spent the rest of the day brooding in my chamber, and when the King’s messenger arrived inviting me to dine with him, on that occasion, I respectfully declined, begging His Majesty’s pardon and excusing myself on the grounds of illness. I wanted nothing more than some time and space to myself. It was now a rare thing, and so at odds with my 21st century life. So, in my imposed solitude, for the first time in several weeks, I found myself entirely lost in my thoughts of home and of Daniel. I reflected on just how much I had changed over the past few weeks.

I was beginning to lose myself in Anne, no longer seeing myself in her shoes, but rather that I was becoming the woman who had always been my heroine. I wondered if I were to return to the 21st century, would I remember any of this? I presumed I would, for I could remember my modern day life—although increasingly it was taking on an ethereal and dreamlike quality. I felt scared that day as I realised that I was no longer quite so sure what ‘reality’ really was anymore.

I realised that as Anne, I was in love with Henry, ever more each day. If I were re-united with Daniel, would I feel the same for him? Would I still love him? So many questions whirled through my mind. With these troubled thoughts, I finally slipped into an exhausted slumber.

The King was gravely concerned by my message of the night before, and shortly after breakfast, I was summoned to his Privy Chambers. Henry was waiting for me alone in his private study, and when I entered, he rushed over, taking me first in his arms, his face full of worry and concern for my well-being.

‘Anne, sweetheart, are you all right? I sent my messenger back to enquire of the nature of your indisposition, but your lady mother said that you had already taken to your bed. I could not sleep for concern that you may have caught a serious chill on the journey yesterday.’ I stood close to Henry and he cupped my face between his strong hands. He searched my eyes lovingly, as he gently stroked the soft skin of my cheek with his thumb. I felt a little ashamed and embarrassed for causing him such concern over something that in the light of day, and thank God it was a beautiful, warm summer’s morning, seemed so self-indulgent.

‘I beg Your Majesty’s most humble pardon,’ I said with my eyes downcast. ‘I fear that the journey took its toll on me, but I am much refreshed now and completely well.’ I looked up and met Henry’s gaze. ‘I am indeed sorry if I caused you worry, Henry.’ The King did not answer, but leaned forward and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I think in his panic to assure himself that all was well, he had entirely forgotten all sense of propriety, and for the first time in several weeks, we found ourselves entirely alone. Suddenly, his gentle kisses became more passionate, insistent and searching. In Henry’s arms, all my cares and anxieties melted away, all sense of danger dissipated and I dissolved into his embrace, returning his kisses with equal ardour. Clearly, the need for us to show public restraint over the previous weeks and months had demanded much of both of us; the energy that we spent managing our emotions and desires burst forth in an uncontrollable torrent of passion.

Henry suddenly swung me about and pushed me backwards against his desk, which was placed in the centre of the room. Our passion escalated quickly, as we both gasped for air; the searching intimacy of our touch like oxygen to two bodies starved of sexual contact. He was a man unleashed, as he covered my neck and breasts with savage kisses, as if he wished to devour me. Pushing me backwards, I reached out, scratching at the table for support; in the process, I heard objects sent flying in all directions, casualties of our intense physical drama.

My lover became wedged between my legs, and I found myself drawing him in to me, gripping him with my thighs. Like a man possessed, he tore at my bodice, as if intent on tearing it from me. Of course, that was impossible; the layers were far too thick and too tightly laced about my body. The other hand though was free to find its way beneath my skirts, despite the many layers. We were almost entirely lost and approaching the point of no return, when I suddenly saw the faces of my father and my uncle Norfolk before my eyes. It immediately jolted me back to reality. In truth, I wanted nothing more than for Henry to plunge himself inside me. With every ounce of self-restraint that I was able to muster, I suddenly put one hand against his chest, holding him back and drawing away from his lips, I found myself gasping,

‘No, Henry, no! We can’t . . . not now . . . not like this! It was enough to break the spell and Henry’s body, so taut and wound up like a coiled spring only a moment before, suddenly collapsed and went limp above me. We both rested for a moment in silence, breathless and frustrated; our lust remaining unfulfilled. After a little while, and with what seemed like a heavy heart, the King said,

‘You are right, my love. I must respect your maidenhead until we are married.’ I was not prepared for this but I knew that from a man like Henry, this show of restraint was entirely uncommon and unfamiliar. I also knew that inadvertently, I had just raised the stakes another notch in terms of the expectations and intensity that existed in the tempestuous relationship between these two, passionate lovers.

Thankfully, our second day of travelling was much improved. We set out from Havering on a bright sunny, warm morning and although the roads remained difficult, our collective spirits were high and our train made faster progress toward the city. We were all greatly relieved to reach London, where the retinue transferred to barges that were to take us gracefully up river towards the Palace of Richmond.

As one of the Queen’s maids of honour, I travelled in Katherine’s Royal barge. In my modern day life, I have often travelled on pleasure boats up and down the Thames. Yet, all of these paled in comparison to the Royal barges of both the King and Queen; they were mini palaces in their own right, carved with elaborate heraldic devices, emblazoned with gold and silver and crowned magnificently with a multitude of colourful banners and regalia associated with the Royal House of Tudor. I would come to know this form of travel intimately, and eventually, Katherine’s barge would become my own.

As I took my place in attendance on the Queen, I appreciated the beauty of the elaborate wainscoted panelling and the sumptuous fabrics which covered the multitude of cushions provided for our every comfort. I looked along the length of the vessel, admiring the fine appearance of the liveried oarsmen, who were already seated in anticipation of our arrival. They were a splendid sight in their red and gold uniforms, oars raised, awaiting the signal for us to depart. We soon took our seats alongside the Queen, under a canopy hung with cloth of gold and rich purple velvet. To pass the time, a young man on a lute serenaded us with melodies that had become familiar to me; whilst the sweet smell of burning herbs filled my nostrils, displacing the rather unpleasant smell of river water that floated up around us. I was thrilled at the prospect of this journey. I had already made some acquaintance with the Tudor city of London as I passed through it with my mother and brother on the way to Beaulieu. Yet there was something always exciting about seeing London from its very heart; from the enduring body of water that had always been a key trade route, and which originally ensured that London would become England’s capital.